


May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor

by hollydermovoi



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Hunger Games AU, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:34:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollydermovoi/pseuds/hollydermovoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy is not a hero</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Reaping Days should not be allowed to be this sunny,_ thought Darcy unhappily as she stood with the other kids from her school. She was hot, and the pink dress she'd been forced into that morning was _itchy_. This was her first reaping day, and while she knew that she was safe 'cause her name had only been put in the bowl once, she was still nervous. After all, the games were terrifying, and District Eight had quite the reputation now thanks to the last two Games, which had been won by the male tributes from the district. Murmurs from the crowd drew her attention to the stage, where the escort for her district, Tony Stark, had taken his place in front of the mic.

Everyone in the District hated Stark, whose company supplied the Peacemakers with weapons and the Games with the tech they bombarded the tributes with, but she liked him. Something about the grim set to his smile and the forced devil-may-care attitude spoke to her of a kindred spirit, one used to doing whatever it took to get noticed, even something as desperate for being an escort in your spare time for a District that meant jack shit to your profession. He always wore the style of the District though his colors were far more abrasive than anything a true resident would pick, colors she _knew_ Jane had patiently coaxed out of the dye vats.

Jane Foster was much older than Darcy, almost old enough to be exempt from the Reap completely, and was a genius airhead. This might sound like an oxymoron, but it's true. She can make any color imaginable with the strangest ingredients, but she forgets to sleep, or eat, but that's what Darcy is for. For a small portion of Jane's wages, Darcy would head over to her workshop in the mill after school and keep an eye on Jane, making sure she ate and slept regularly. It might seem a little weird, but Darcy would've done it for free. After all, Jane was the closest thing she had to a friend, and it'd be really fun to witness the reaction she'd had when she'd realized that not only did she have one Game winner interested in marrying her, she had two. They were set to have a commitment ceremony after this Game, when Jane was officially of age and safe from the Reaping.

"Hellooooo, citizens of District Eight!" came Tony's drawl."Welcome to the 65th Annual Reaping for the Hunger Games! As always, I am your loyal escort, Anthony Stark, here to call out the names, let's get this over with, I need a drink. Of course, your winners need no introduction, but I'll introduce them anyways. The winner of the 63rd Hunger Games, Thor Odinson, and the winner of the 64th Hunger Games, Loki Lauffeyson. Let's see who this years lucky duo will be, and who knows! Maybe we'll win a third time in a row. Remember folks, may the odds be ever in your favor. All right, men first..." he rummaged through the bowl and pulled out a name. With a smirk he read out "Ian Boothby!" 

Oh. That's too bad, Ian was nice. Well, as nice as thirteen-year old boys _could_ be. _Everyone_ liked Ian. He'd be missed.

"And now for the ladies!" Stark cried. He fished around the bowl before pulling out a paper. "And this year's lucky lady is- Jane Foster!"

Almost instantly, Thor let out a bellow of outraged pain, while Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously. They both looked more than ready to tear Tony apart at the drop of a hat. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Jane square her shoulders and step forward, tears running down her cheeks, and Darcy just couldn't stop herself. She shoved her way to the front of the group and raised her arm, jumping up and down for good measure as she screamed the stupidest thing she'd ever said in her entire life (and she'd said a lot of things in her life that were stupid). 

"I volunteer as tribute!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that it's probably best to just write what comes to me instead of trying to follow the book at all. The way I've decided to plot this is as part of their efforts to make it hard for the outlying districts, Reapings do not happen simultaneously, but rather over the course of 12 days. This, of course, gives the careers far more time to train and show off their skills.

The next half an hour was kind of a blur. Later, on the train, she'd try to remember giving Tony Stark her name, how it felt to be announced tribute, saying goodbye to her parents, but nothing would come to her. She would remember that she hadn't cried like Ian did, that Jane _did_ cry when she'd hugged her goodbye, and that they had to be pried apart by Loki's curiously gentle hands, that Thor had crushed her to his chest, shaking as he thanked her through his sobs, that it'd been Loki, her mentor, who'd braided her token, a long swatch of gold, green and brown cloth, into her hair. She could remember the smell, the colors, the feel of their clothing, but she couldn't remember the look on her own mother's face.

And as she sat on the train, eyeing her escort who seemed to be trying to kill himself with alcohol, she faced the fact that this was exceedingly fucked up.

*

The Capital was louder than the Loom rooms in factories four through six, and that was saying something. She laid in bed that night, trying to sleep, but all she could think of was in how in about a week she'd be thrust into a dangerous place with no allies, people would be trying to kill her and she'd be expected to try to kill them.

Or, y'know, try not to get killed in the first massacre, find a place to chill in a "safe" place. Of course, even if she managed to survive the first massacre, there was no guarantee that she'd find somewhere "safe". No where in Panem was truly safe. She of all people was too aware of that.

She swallowed back the bile rising into her mouth and Did Not Think about Stacy. How Stacy used to laugh, and let Darcy comb her long flaxen hair, the same hair that had gotten snagged in one of the spindles and had turned crimson and grey with blood and brains. How after that, no one challenged the Peacemakers when it came time for Hair Clipping because 

everyone

remembered Stacy.

Soon, they'd remember her, as they remembered Nanna, the female tribute from Thor's year and Sigyn, from Loki's, both of who had died horrifically violent deaths. They'd make a textile just for her, and it'd be added to the wall of mourning, with all of the swatches of the past, who they learned about in History. She'd been young enough to cover her eyes for most of the Games of the past, but she remembered Nanna's, and she remembered Sigyn's. 

Nanna had been a happy, peaceful girl, betrothed to Thor's brother, Baldr, when she'd been reaped. She'd gone to the stage with a sunny smile after kissing Baldr goodbye. Two weeks later, she'd been smiling the same sweet, tranquil smile when she'd moved off her platform before the countdown finished, and that had been the year that they'd learned about the mines and the importance of following the Capitol's rules. Everyone had been convinced that what had happened to Nanna had been the worse the Games could get.

And then Sigyn had been chosen.

They didn't talk about Sigyn much in District Eight.

Worse comes to worse, what happened to Sigyn could happen to Darcy. Nanna may have been the smartest player in the Games yet, taking herself out before anyone else could kill her, or torture her. Maybe Darcy should follow in her footsteps...

She had the rest of the night to embrace that plan (and have nightmares about being thrown into a hole full of snakes) before it was taken from her (rather violently thank you) the next morning by the Avengers.


End file.
